Punch (95.1888)

190 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [October 20, 1888.

ANTICIPATIONS OF NEXT LORD MAYOR'S SHOW.

[" The Lord Mayor Elect wishes the Procession to be worthy of the occasion, and the Corporation of London. He is opposed to the introduction of
the Circus element and allegorical display, which accord neither with his own taste, nor, in his opinion, with the dignity of the City."— Vide the Fapers.J

The Fathers of the City were seated in the Council Chamber,
engaged in a deep consultation. It was within measurable distance
of the Ninth of November, and consequently the Lord Mayor shortly
was to proceed in state from London to Westminster.

"This is a more than usually interesting occasion,"observed one of
the Fathers, gravely. " It is possible that we may never have another
Lord Mayor,—leastways, not the likes of them as we have had."

" 'Ear, 'ear! " murmured an Alderman of the old school, who had
passed the chair.

"And this being so," continued the other, "I hope, I do hope,
that the Show will be worthy of the event. For instance, I trust, I
do trust, that the City Marshal will be seen a-riding in front of it all,
a-mounted on horseback p"

"My objection to the Circus element has become historical,"
returned the Lord Mayor Elect, with considerable dignity.
_ "And I do beg," continued the Alderman, ignoring the interrup-
tion, "that we shall have the men-in-armour. I may say that with-
out the men-in-armour the day would go for nothing. The Missus
—I should say my Lady wife—and the young 'uns like to see the
ancient knights, and without them the day would go for nothing."

." Don't _ say that," remonstrated an Alderman, thin and smart,
with a pince-nez, of the new school. "You are forgetting the
banquet. You can't say a day which gives you a fair menu goes for
nothing. C'est Maaue, mon cher ; or, as we used to say at the dear
old 'Varsity, garrula lingua nocet!"

Then came a chorus of the discontented. They followed one
another like a chime of bells.

•' Yes, but how about the ancient knights—are we to have any
men-in-armour ? "

" And surely we are not to be cut out of our banners ? "

" And the fire-engines—ain't we to have any of them ? "

" And I do like to see a Life-boat. It gives such a benevolent air
to it all, vou know."

" And the Kangers—them with the guns—what about them ? "

"The procession will worthily represent the dignity of the City of
London," replied the Lord Mayor Elect, evasively.

" Yes, we know all that," observed another Alderman, rather
coarsely, '' and that the surplus saved out of the Show is to be given
to a charity. But what is the Show to be like ? Ain't we going to
have any gals in tights seated on globes as Britannia, and all that
sort of thing ?"

" I am not very fond of the allegorical."

"Oh, gammon!" continued the critical Corporationist. "Let
the young 'uns have a chance. If it ain't too late, why not have a
giraffe or a couple of elephants from the Zoological Gardens ? "

"Gentlemen," returned the Lord Mayor Elect, with dignity,
" believe me, I am not unmindful of the importance of the Metropolis
of the World. I believe you will find that the Procession will upnold
by its magnificence the best traditions of this great centre of
civilisation."

And amidst some sounds of dissatisfaction, the meeting dissolved.

When he was alone, the future Chief Magistrate of the City of
London knitted his brow in the profoundest thought.

"What shall I do ?" he murmured. " They are never satisfied !
Have I not selected a West-End Coachmaker ? Have I not contrived
a card of invitation that should provoke the admiration of the whole
of the civilised world ? What more would they have ? May I not
give up the cumbersome Beadles, the useless Commissionnaires ? And
forsooth, the Procession—the real Procession—with myself in a
brougham, and the City Marshal on the box—is not sufficiently
ornate for them! Well, I must contrive something better—some-
thing that by its splendour shall catch the fancy of the ground-
lings."

And so late into the night and far into the early morning the Lord
Mayor Elect pondered. Day was breaking when, with a shout of
triumphant joy, he jumped to his feet.

"I have it!" he exclaimed, "I have it! Splendour without
vulgarity! Comfort and dignity! I have found the happy mean."

A fortnight later all London was anxiously waiting the approach
of the annual Procession. It came. But to describe it the pen fails.
And that being the case (as will be seen by the sketch above) resort
has been had to the Artist's pencil.