Punch (99.1890)

16

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[July 12, 1890.

MODERN TYPES.

{By Mr. Punch's Own Type Writer.)

No. XV.—THE JACK OF ALL JOURNALISMS.

In order to become a successful Journalist of a certain sort, it is
only necessary that a man should in early life provide himself with
a front as brazen as the trumpet which he blows to announce to
the world his merits and his triumphs. It is, of course, essential

elegant and recherche, whilst the dresses and jewels of Mrs. Juts are
always a subject of enthusiastic admiration to those amongst whom
she moves ; and it is only in moments of peculiar moroseness that we
remember that neither of these two ladies is qualified by position or
refinement for anything more than a passing smile. Tet to many,
the mere fact that they are mentioned in paragraphs, is proof positive
of their descent from the Vere de Veees.

Moreover, the Jack of Journalisms will, at one time or another,
have risen from the position of one who chronicles second-rate shows

that he should rid himself of any trace of sensitiveness that may j in remote corners of his paper, to be the recognised dramatic critic of
remain to him after a youth about which the only thing certain is a powerful organ. He thus acquires an extraordinary influence

its complete obscurity, in order that no hint may be sufficiently broad
to fit in with the tolerant breadth of his impudence, and no affront
sufficiently pointed to pierce the skin with which Nature and his own
industry have furnished him. Literary culture must be eschewed,
for with literary culture come taste and discrimination—qualities
which might fatally obstruct the path of this journalistic aspirant.
For it must be assumed that in some of its later developments
journalism has entirely cast off the reticence and the modesty which
successive generations of censors have constantly held to have been
characteristic of an age that is past. Indeed, while it is established
that in 1850 the critics of the day fixed their thoughts with pleasure
on the early years of the century, though they found nothing but
abuse for the journalism of their own time, it is curious to note that
many of those who hurl the shafts of ridicule and contempt at the

which he consolidates amongst outsiders by occasional lapses into a
fury of critical honesty and abuse. It may be said of him, indeed,
that, " Hell hath no fury like a critic scorned," for if he should, on
any occasion, have taken umbrage at the treatment accorded to him
by an actor or a manager, he will never allow the offence to fade, so
long as he can fashion insinuations, misconstrue motives, or manu-
facture failure with his pen.

In appearance the Jack of all Journalisms is not altogether'pleasing.
His early struggles against irresponsive editors have left their mark
upon him, for having been compelled to seek consolation for disappoint-
ment by indulging in strong drinks, he never completely loses the
habit which tells, of course, both upon his dress and temper. Though
success, by bringing the pleasures of the table within his reach, has
increased the rotundity of his figure, it has never been able to make

present period have only words of praise for his collars snowy or his conversation refined.

1850. Without, however, going so far as |7i7j7"-777. T7] He is often found upon the Committees of new

these stern descendants of Cato, it may be Ijjlli 'I III HI Clubs which start with a blare of journalistic
affirmed that the porpoise-hided Jack of all I I "If trumpets upon a chequered existence, only to
Journalisms, as we know him, never had a I f h M$p/%a&\ 'i NT? Ill Perisn ™ contempt a few years afterwards,
greater power, nor exercised it over a larger i |'|!|ll| WiMlfizW^ i) Willi 1 But wn^e they last he attends them in the
scope with smaller scruple than to-day. ill f§iP[fwx)L Hill hope of picking up a friend who may be valu-
It has been already said that the youth of I III/; M^V^II? 'I ill 11/ able, or some gossip which he may turn to
the Jack of all Journalisms is lost in obscurity. 11 !| f9 il|||'( I II MIi acoount- As a rule, he affects the society of
It is obvious that he cannot have acquired his II I ill i'PI'U'*---—lllllll/' ' #1 those who are intellectually dull in order that
readiness of pen without much practice, hut I j/ / ^W L^ilffl^ he may pass with them for a man of immense
where the practice was obtained is a puzzle to jjl j I 11/ / / imSfjto-wf!^ culture and unfathomable sagacity. Over the
which each of his enemies has a different key. I,|j Ji I j,y f ( 'l|PWj«jpj third long drink provided for him by an ad-
Some say of him that he spent a year or two ajz^SU I , / \ jf W. ",)/, >l. miring associate of this sort, he will grow
at a University, where he was noxed for the |Bfj|'f J (fl II I j Ifljltlf eloquent, and his conversation will sparkle
unfailing regularity with which he sought the ||W^IIJ|M II '1 '^wk^/W/^ with reminiscences of leading articles he may
society of the wealthy, imbibed strong drinks, |im\l llllnHh ^mrW7" once have written, and anticipations of others
and omitted to pay his debts. It is also ^wjjf Hi^if^U'^S»i ^my w that he proposes to write. Those who hear
alleged that he started a colourable University | BfeMsiSliHii ..TOflajj^yUir him on such occasions will opine that he is a
imitation of the journal which happened at Ml§lFf¥^^*8Li^OTlllSBlf man °^ S611™8) wno is only prevented by the
that particular time to be the most highly J / Ml s^^^^^^^mK carelessness of a Gallio from becoming a states-
coloured in London, and that, after struggling t. " , a.Mhm ' \\x^^^^^j^^Kk man °^ ^he first rank.

through two numbers of convulsive scurrility, 1[ fl| ffll l| I j| Iw/Kh^oBk/^B A little later he will rise still higher, and

the infant efiort withered under the frown of HiiT^^^lljif] ! [iflflBflflP"^*^ will become the almost recognised medium

the Authorities, who at the same time sent its \ I '—M'|llPllW™aff**"' -2-1 through which really fashionable intelligence

founder down. Others, however, declare him . is converted into common knowledge. In this

to have been the offspring of a decayed purveyor of spurious racing
intelligence, who naturally sent his son to shift for himself after he
had lost his last shirt in betting against one of his own prophecies.
Others again aver, and probably with equal accuracy, that he was at
no time other than what he is when the world first becomes aware of
his existence—the blatant, cringing, insolent, able and disreputable
wielder of a pen which draws much of its sting and its profit from
the vanities and fears of his fellow-creatures. Be that as it may, he
somehow becomes a power. He attaches himself to many journals,
the editors of whioh he first pesters, afterwards serves, and always
despises. He may perhaps have dabbled in music, and caused a

Eenniless friend who is musical to write for small pay songs which
e honours by attaching his own name to them as their composer.
Woe betide the unhappy aspirant to the honours of public singing
who ignores the demand of this quasi-musical Turpin that she
should sing his songs. For, having become in the meantime a
musical critic, he will devote all his talents to the congenial task of
abusing her voice in his organ—which is naturally the more powerful
instrument of the two. Should she, however, Bubmit to his extor-
tionate requests, he will deem himself entitled to embitter the rest
of her existence with his patronising commendation.

However, before reaching this pitch, he will have made his mark
as an interviewer and a picturesque social reporter. Tn the former
capacity he will have hunted momentary celebrities into the sanctity
of their rooms, whence, after exchanging two words with them, he
will have emerged with two columns of conversation. In the latter
capacity, he will create for himself and the readers of his paper a
social circle, the members of which, bear the same relation to Society
proper as a lurcher does to a pure-bred greyhound. For there are
many so-called social sets which are select merely because few desire
to enter and many to leave them, and to these the Jack of all Jour-
nalisms is often a prophet and a leader pointing the way to the
promised land. Thus we learn, with surprise, at first, and afterwards
with the yawn that comes of the constant repetition of an ascertained
fact, that the receptions of Lady Tiffin are a model of all that is

position he will allow nothing to escape him, and if one of the highest
persons in the land should invite six friends to dinner, their names
will on the following morning be known to the Jack of all Journal-
isms. It is unnecessary to say that in the course of this career he
acquires, not only notoriety, but enemies, who watch eagerly for the
false step that shall bring him to the ground. In spite of his craft,
he is inevitably driven from boldness into rashness, and after waging
a fruitless war against rascals more accomplished than himself, he,
with a courage that scarcely atones for his imprudence, enters the
witness-box, and, a flood of light having been thrown upon his past
career, he finds himself for two nights blazoned in enormous letters
on the posters of the evening papers, and is compelled, in the end, to
submit to an adverse verdict, and to retire, " it may be for years or
it may be for ever," from the open practice of a profession in which
he had so distinguished himself.

ACCORDING; TO A EECENT PRECEDENT.

[Her Majesty's Servants are invited to cheer the Queen.— Official Invitation.]

Soldiers. Not us—we want more food!

Sailors. Belay there—give us more liberty ashore I

C. S. Clerks. Can't attend to private business during office hours—
redress our grievances!

Postmen. Don't care a rap—groans as before—haven't ohanged
our sentiments!

Police. Move on with that there request—just mind your own
business, and look after our pensions!

Inland Revenue Receivers. No! That's the only Tax that needn't
be paid!

Distinguished Unionists.—On Saturday next, at Westminster
Abbey, Mr. H. M. Stanley, the founder of the " Congo Free State,"
enters the " Can't-go Free State."