Punch (65.1873)

August 23, 1873.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

71

BRICK WITHOUT STRAW.

Our respected contemporary, the Clerkenwell News,
advertises as foRoweth:—

EMPLOYMENT wanted by a Young Man of any
sort.— Address, &c.”

This is a most accommodating Young Man. We
wonder he did not add, “ or of any size.” He must be
Mu. Pliable, mentioned hy John Bunyan. We should
not wonder if he got a good place—this is just the kind
of advertisement that would recommend itself to some
feminine minds. The Indefinite has a great charm for
some people—the class that hate the multiplication
table, and love unknown quantities—who tell you a
thing may be seen everywhere, and that everybody has
it, and, like the Mulligan, when yon ask for an address,
say, “ 0, out there.” Yery well, preach a better sermon
i yourself on the evident misplacement of three words.

Flippant Fair Ones.

Professor Rein kens has been consecrated Missionary
Bishop for the Old Catholics of Germany hy Bishop
Heykamp, of Deventer, and assistants. The priest
> Rinkel, of Krommenie, has likewise been consecrated
Bishop of Haarlem. Thus the Old Catholics seem to be
successfully organising themselves in Germany and
Holland. Are they likely to increase and multiply?
That remains to be seen ; hut, in the meanwhile, there
are a great many silly girls who say that they never will
marry an Old Catholic.

Such. Fantastic Tricks.

His Holiness says, that “what men do in the way of
pilgrimage is done in the sight of the angels.” Pope
Shakspeare said it before Pope Pius, with an addition
about men doing certain things that make the angels
use their pocket-handkerchiefs.

‘•'THE GARB OF OLD GAUL.”

moke justice wanted.

Young Laird (to newly-appointed Footman). “Well, Donald, how do you
like Trousers?”

Donald (heretofore a Gillie, who had never worn anything but Kilts). “ Aweel,
Sir, I find ’em vera ’Ncomfortable aboot the Sleeves ! ! ”

Five Grocers in Dunmow have been fined for serving
out objectionable Butter. Why have there been no
proceedings, then, against the speakers who eulogised
the candidates for the Dunmow Flitch ?

PUNCH’S MUSICAL SERMON.

(With Two Texts.)

Mr. Punch has not had much to say about Music lately, and for
a reason sufficing to himself, and therefore sufficient for mankind.
For when Punch is content the world is at peace. The fact is that
the Music-Crops have been bad this year, and the yield next to
nothing. The Shah prevented the production of Balfe’s Opera,
II Talismano, and thus deferred another victory for Admirable
Nilsson ; hut we trust that, like her namesake, Admiral Nelson,
she will defeat the combined forces of the Continent next season,
and win new glories for the British flag. Titiens and Patti have
been singing like—Titiens and Patti ; none but themselves can he
their parallels; which quotation doesn’t hold, because parallels
never meet, and those ladies have met very often, to their mutual
delight. M. Faure has done everything like the true artist that he
is, and we praise Apollo for him. Madame Arabella Goddard has
gone to see the Southern Cross—let the enchanted Australians give
her one in diamonds. Lesser lights have shone their brightest.
But we have had no novelty, and Mr. Punch has no space to tell a
hundred times told tales. There are two matters, however, to
which he proposes to invite attention. And, first, he begs, or rather
takes leave to ask a question. Where is your English Mozart,
Weber, Meddlesome (as Mrs. Malaprop calls him), Back (as
Mrs. Malaprop spells him), and Auber ? If we paused for a reply,
we should wait some time. But it may he that we should not have
to wait so long, if England bestowed more pains on the musical
education of her children. Latent genius might he developed.
Yery well, go to. That is, go to the Treasurers for two most
excellent projects which be now in hand. Go to the Bank of Eng-
land, Western Branch, and pay in a donation to the Mendelssohn
Scholarships Foundation, which has been doing exceeding good
work, hut which, we regret to hear from Mr. Otto Goldschmidt,
is much crippled for want of funds. This is simply a shame, for

Mendelssohn’s music commends itself to those whose gold makes
merry music in their pockets. “ Heaven save the Foundation! ” as
Dogberry observes, and let us help in the process. Why, Arthur
Sullivan was the very first scholar elected by this Institution, and
if that fact be not reason for encouraging and supporting it, we know
nothing about facts or reasons either. Well, hand in your money.
Then write a letter to a Lady who has most honourably distinguished
herself by her services to Music, we mean Lady Jenkinson, of
Eastwood Park, Gloucestershire, and enclose your cheque, or your
P.0.0., towards another Foundation, that of a Thalberg Scholarship,
to be attached to the Royal Academy (not our dear friends the
Painters; they roll in gold, and might give us more dinners), but
of Music. This Scholarship is to. be the reward of “the best
executant of the best sort of Music.” Now, don’t be absurd. If
England is to be a musical nation, it will not be by gushing, or by
merely paying vast sums to finished artists, but hy educating her
own musical youth. There is sound sense in both these efforts, or
Mr. Punch would not have devoted his precious intellect to eulogis-
ing them. Having obeyed his commands, enjoy your holidays.
But, if you neglect the mandate, may the pianofortes in the houses
right and left of you he bumped from morning to night by the most
stupid and unteachable girls that ever banged a key-board.

Hopeful.

M. Henri Rocheort has been sent to New Caledonia. If it’s
anything like Old Caledonia, there’s a fair chance of his coming
“ Bock agen.” By the way, as a conundrum, when M. Rocheort
once more sits on the Boulevards, with his modest glass of malt
liquor before him, what, in Old Caledonian language, will he say ?
Evidently (vide supra) “ Pock agen.”

’Twlxt two Latin Races small difference is plain;
There’s fusion in France, and confusion in Spain.